


hold your breath (count to ten)

by inklingchild



Series: Sanders Sides One Shots [1]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Coffee Shops, College AU, Logan gets flaked :/, M/M, Panic Attacks, Wrong Number AU, procrastination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklingchild/pseuds/inklingchild
Summary: Unknown:Hello, Roman, it is Logan from our shared English lecture.  I messaged you in regards to the project we are supposed to do together.  Is there any specific time you are free for us to convene and discuss how we should begin the project?Regards, LoganRoman Prince:uh,,Roman Prince:hate to break it to u buddy butRoman Prince:im not ur partner???Unknown:I beg your pardon?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Sanders Sides One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766344
Comments: 30
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Panic attacks, panic over procrastination, not asking for consent before initiating contact during a panic attack  
> Please let me know if there's anything else I should add!

**March 16, 2:18pm**

**Unknown:** Hello, Roman, it is Logan from our shared English lecture. I messaged you in regards to the project we are supposed to do together. Is there any specific time you are free for us to convene and discuss how we should begin the project? Regards, Logan

**Roman Prince:** uh,,

**Roman Prince:** hate to break it to u buddy but

**Roman Prince:** im not ur partner???

**Unknown:** I beg your pardon?

**Roman Prince** : im not roman

**Unknown** : Is this a “prank”?

**Unknown** : While you might find this amusing, Roman, I would like to not fail this course and end serving burgers at McDonald’s. I would greatly appreciate it if you would please drop the metaphorical act, so that we might commence with our project.

**Roman Prince:** jesus man im telling u

**Roman Prince:** the guy mustve given u a random number

**Unknown** : Why would he do that?

**Roman Prince:** idk man

**Roman Prince:** probably wanted to ditch u 2 do the project together or smthg

**Unknown** : Ah, I see.

**Roman Prince:** sorry man :/

**Unknown** : Why are you apologizing? Unless you are actually my partner, you have done nothing wrong.

**Roman Prince** : idk man a partner who flakes on u is a sucky dude

**Unknown** : I suppose.

**Unknown** : Thank you for your assistance.

**Roman Prince** : uh np??

**Roman Prince** : good luck w ur project or whatever

**March 18, 9:25am**

**Not Roman Prince:** what’s the proper use of its vs it’s

**flaked guy:** “Its” is the possessive version of the pronoun “it.”

**flaked guy** : “It’s” is a contraction of “it is.”

**Not Roman Prince** : k thx

**March 19 7:18pm**

**punctuation guy:** Would you happen to know the definition of the slang word, “fahm”

**Not Roman Prince** : its like

**Not Roman Prince** : **it’s

**Not Roman Prince:** im sorry, ik we just talked about that

**Not Roman Prince:** it’s used as a shortened version of family ig?

**Not Roman Prince:** or to describe someone close to u

**Not Roman Prince** : depends on the context

**Not Roman Prince** : im sorry, that wasn’t a v good definition

**punctuation guy** : No need to apologize; your assistance is appreciated.

**9:28pm - Incoming call from “punctuation guy”**

**Not Roman Prince** : were you srsly just talking about astronomy the whole time

**punctuation guy:** I find the subject interesting. Is that a problem?

**Not Roman Prince** : nah man, i think it’s cool that you have someone you can rant to about the things you like

**punctuation guy:** I was not with anyone else during the time of the “pocket dial.” I was merely speaking my thought process out loud.

**Not Roman Prince** : oh

**Not Roman Prince** : sorry 

**punctuation guy:** No need to apologize; you have committed no mistake.

**March 20, 11:34pm**

**Not Roman Prince** : uh i need,,

**Not Roman Prince:** some help

**punctuation guy:** And you reach out to me, someone you do not even know for assistance?

**Not Roman Prince** : i mean,,,,,,,,

**Not Roman Prince:** weve talked in the past??

**Not Roman Prince** : that’s gotta count for something.

**Not Roman Prince** : and ik u’r super smart so like

**Not Roman Prince** : help pls?

**punctuation guy:** You are correct; I am of above average intelligence.

**punctuation guy:** However, I am incredibly busy working on the project that I got, quote-on-quote, “flaked on.”

**punctuation guy:** Please leave me alone.

**Not Roman Prince** : nononono wiat

**Not Roman Prince:** im sorry im really sorry i really dont wanna bother u its just that this thing is due in twenty minutes and i cant

**Not Roman Prince:** there’s literally no one else ik who could possibly help me out

**Not Roman Prince** : im sorry this was a dumb idea,,

**punctuation guy:** Wait.

**punctuation guy:** What assignment are you trying to complete? 

**Not Roman Prince:** the thing from prof nicholson 

**punctuation guy:** I do not have a class with Professor Nicholson.

**Not Roman Prince:** ah shit

**punctuation guy:** It is 11:40pm. Meet me at outside the Computer Science Lab in three minutes.

**Not Roman Prince:** oh shit ok

Despite it being almost midnight, the path leading up to the CompSci Lab was well lit. Virgil dashed down the walkway, his anxiety over getting this paper done overriding his fear of someone seeing him run like a madman to meet a guy he’d never met, who had just happened to offer with a paper.

Oh Christ, what if he’s a murderer? And that’s why his English partner ditched him ( _oh shit, I’m gonna die I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die and I’m gonna get an F on this paper because I got killed and I never submitted it oh shit-_ ).

The paper in question was about a psychology report based on the affect of touch on anxiety, a topic that Virgil had thrown himself into. The paper was probably the only assignment he hadn’t pushed to the last second, yet here he was, sixteen minutes to the deadline, with one of the biggest questions about the report left unanswered.

As he approached the building, there was a man standing by the door, clutching a laptop and a psychology textbook. As Virgil came closer, he realized how much taller than himself the other guy was and was stuck between being intimidated and swooning at the put-together man (a little voice in his head marveled at how the black polo fit snugly across the other man’s chest before Virgil smushed it down to deal with later). The stranger in particular was staring at their phone, their posture unnaturally perfect. As soon as Virgil came within ten feet of them, their head snapped up and they shoved their phone into their back pocket, somehow straightening their back even more. Virgil flushed at the sudden attention given to him by the other person (who he just noticed had thin wire glasses that made them look so damn _good_ -), and greeted him with a, “you’re the dude, right?”

The person raised an eyebrow and Virgil curled into himself slightly, internally bemoaning his lack of eloquent social skills. “If you are referring to me being the man who asked you to come here after you begged me to help you on a psychology paper, then yes, I am ‘the dude,’” they replied, a slight tone of amusement in their voice. They tilted their head and reached out their one hand not occupied with carrying their laptop and textbook. “Logan, he/him. We have approximately fourteen and a half minutes before your deadline, so I suggest we get to work.”

Virgil quickly shot out his name and pronouns, face red and palms getting sweatier by the millisecond. Logan had them sit down on a bench outside the building as Virgil quickly explained the project and what he was stuck on. Multiple times he had to mentally coach himself to breathe through the overwhelming panic of _ohshitohshit its not gonna get done in time_ , so he could actually listen to what Logan was saying so he could turn the damn thing in in the first place.

As Logan explained what the question was asking, Virgil was typing like his life depended on it (which, to be fair, it kinda did). Slowly, but surely, the two of them worked through the question, and Virgil’s breathing, while still erratic, was slowing down into more even breaths. As fast as he could, he proofread the paragraph, saved the document, all too wary of what could happen (of what _has_ happened) when papers weren’t saved, and sent it to his professor with three minutes left to spare.

As soon as he clicked submit, all of the adrenaline that had been keeping him up for the past few days exited his system and he slumped over his laptop, his greasy, purple bangs falling limply in front of his face. He exhaled shakily and then turned his head to look up at the other man (who he was realizing to be more and more gorgeous with every passing second). Virgil gave Logan a weak, yet exuberant smile and Logan, who’s facial expression beforehand could only be described as curious, returned it, albeit a bit more subdued. “Well, it appears that you have successfully completed your assignment,” Logan commented.

Virgil barked out a small laugh, shaking his head as he looked back down to his worn-out Converse. The exhaustion that the paper had created suddenly hit him like a truck and the anxiety that had been shoved aside in the last twenty minutes came up like a overflowing pot of boiling water. He stared hard at the ground, tears gathering in his eyes. A hand gently settled itself on top of his hunched back and he gasped heavily. He shut his laptop and set it beside him on the bench, and lowered his head into between his knees, folding his hands behind his head.

The hand on his back began tapping out a steady rhythm, which Virgil quickly recognized as a breathing pattern he utilized on the daily. He tried to hone in on the steady rhythm, attempting to force his breathing back to normal, but the hand slowly became a burning iron on his back, despite the thick hoodie separating the hand from his skin. He began heaving and squirmed away from the touch, which quickly pulled away, much to the panicking man’s relief. Yet the burning sunk beneath his skin and spread an itch across his body. He pulled his hands away from behind his head and dug his nails into his fraying sleeves.

_Fuck, Virgil, get it together, man, just fucking breathe, it’s not that hard. Come on, man, 1, 2, 3, fuck, what are you doing, you absolute idiot-_

“Virgil.”

Logan’s voice cut through the static noise growing in his head, and he hissed as the sudden awareness of reality made him all the more aware of the burning itch beneath his skin. “Virgil, you need to breathe.”

“Yeah,“ he gasped, “you think I don’t know that?” Virgil swallowed hard and panted heavily. “Just, just gimme a sec, man.” As soon as Logan went quiet, Virgil sucked in a huge breath, held up, and let it go in a stream of air hissing through his teeth. He went through a few more rounds before he huffed and straightened his back, wincing as he heard it crack. He settled his hands on his lap, mindlessly pulling on the threads of his ripped jeans.

“Are you in a satisfactory headspace?” asked Logan. Virgil huffed in response, leaning back against the bench and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, this is the best it’s gonna get till morning.” Logan opened his mouth, but Virgil shot a hand up to silence him.

“I swear to every god out there that if you say ‘but it’s already morning’, I am going to rescind my offer of free coffee tomorrow and make sure that every cup of tea that I’m sure you drink is over steeped.” The bespectacled man blinked in shock at the threat, but then nodded accordingly.

“Well, I assume that I will see you again tomorrow for that free coffee?”

Virgil huffed again. “Well, seeing as I dragged you out here in the middle of the night to help me, someone you don’t know, finish a paper for a class that you don’t take, free coffee is the least I can do.”

Logan nodded again. He stood up gracefully, and turned to face the student sitting next to him. He held out his hand again and after a few painful seconds, Virgil got the hint and carefully shook his hand before snatching it back and itching unconsciously at the contacted skin. “Logan Sanders.” Virgil blinked quizzically.

“What?”

“That’s my name. For my contact that is surely still saved in your cellular device.”

“Oh.” No one said anything for a beat. “Well, my name’s, uh, Virgil Anderson. For your…contacts, or whatever.” Virgil wrapped his arms around himself and looked away, Converse clad toe tapping on the ground in a senseless pattern. He opened his mouth a couple times and looked frustrated when nothing came out. He clenched his jaw, and tapped his foot a little harder before saying, “I’ll text you the address of the coffee shop.” He grabbed his laptop from next to him. “Thanks for the help, man.” Virgil scurried down the path back to his dorm room, all too aware of the stare that followed him down the walkway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: anxiety, embarrassment, vague implying of general parental suckiness (remy asks if virgil's parents have called, and says that its good that they haven't)

**March 21, 12:34am**

**Virgil Anderson:** the coffee shop’s snooze on 4th and stokes

 **cute dude:** What time would you like me to arrive?

 **Virgil Anderson:** uh 9am? I like to sleep in

  


“Oh my gosh, V, you will _not_ believe what Emmy just said!” 

Virgil rolled his eyes as he entered the coffee shop. “Jesus, Remy, you are obsessed with your partner.” A man stepped out from behind the counter, a long black skirt swishing around his feet. He had his hands planted on his hips, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Oh please, if you were dating someone as sweet as my Emile, you wouldn’t stop talking about them either,” Remy snarked back. Virgil chuckled and threw his backpack down onto one of the armchairs near the door.

“Where is the pastel child anyway?” He asked, plopping onto the arm of the chair. “I want them to do my drink this time, I don’t trust you with my coffee anymore.”

Remy gasped loudly and put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I let you into _my_ coffee shop, I feed you _my_ food! And this is how you treat me!” He threw his hands up into the air. “Unbelievable.”

Virgil laughed and fell back into the chair. He twisted around and threw his feet up onto the table in front of him, maneuvering his backpack onto the floor beside him. “Emile doesn’t put fucking walnuts into my coffee, so please excuse me for wanting them to make it instead of you.”

Remy swished his way over to where Virgil was sitting and reached down to give his friend a kiss on the head. “All joking aside, how have you been, babes?” he asked as he sat in the arm chair across from Virgil, crossing his legs.

Virgil shrugged, the exhaustion in his eyes becoming apparent as his smile slipped off his face. “I don’t know, man, I’m just stressed constantly.”

“Have your parents tried to call you?”

Virgil snorted and looked towards the café window. “They wouldn’t dare.” Remy cracked a smile.

“Good.”

“Oh, by the way-“

“Bitch, what the hell did you do now?” Remy cut in, eyebrow raising. Virgil glared at him.

“Why do you always assume the worst from me?” he asked indignantly.

“Do we need to revisit The Chicken Incident?”

“Oh shush,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Remember the dude I told you about that got flaked on?”

Remy nodded. “It was the punctuation guy, right?”

“Yeah, anyway, so I may or may not have accidentally offered to get him free coffee after he helped me with my psychology essay?” Virgil rushed out, wincing slightly.

Remy raised his sunglasses to give Virgil a deadpanned look. “He was hot, wasn’t he.”

Virgil put his hands up in a what-can-you-do? gesture. “I am a simple gay. I see a hot guy, I do dumb shit!”

“Oh. You think I am attractive,” a new voice remarked.

Virgil blanched as his eyes went wide. He scrambled into an upright position as Remy clapped his hand over his mouth. The café owner managed to stop cackling, but it was a very near thing.

Virgil slowly turned around and saw none other than Logan standing right behind his chair. “Oh,“ he gulped, “uh, I’m-I’m so so so sorry, I-“ Logan cut off Virgil’s apology with a wave of his hand.

“Please, I’d be lying if I didn’t immediately text my brother once I got home that a very cute man had texted me in the middle of the night to help him with a paper and that I was going to get coffee with him in the morning,” Logan replied with a fond smile. Virgil blinked rapidly shock and opened and closed his mouth several times, gaping.

“Me? Cute? I-I-I’m sorry you’re-you’re definitely confusing me with someone else,” Virgil laughed nervously, making desperate glances toward Remy to please _help him._ Of course, Remy, being the absolute bastard that he is, only giggled behind his hand and shrugged, like _what can you do?_

Remy slapped his hands down onto the arms of his chairs, hoisting himself up to his feet. With a smile, he made an excuse about his spouse needing him in the back to take inventory. He blew a kiss towards Virgil, and with a swish of his black skirt and a “see you later, babes!”, he had disappeared behind the counter.

“Oh, damnit, Remy,” Virgil cursed, and looked anxiously toward Logan. “Uh, here, uh, you can sit here, I’ll move-“ he cut himself off by grabbing his bag and moving to the seat Remy had just occupied. Logan nodded in thanks, still hosting that amused, yet fond expression on his face. He settled into the chair and gracefully set his computer bag on the table. Virgil felt his palms get sweaty and his breathing begin to quicken. _Oh hell no, this is **not** happening now._ Staring at the table in front of him, he sucked in a huge breath and glanced at Logan with a sheepish grin.

Logan’s gaze softened and he set his hands in his lap, playing with a rubber bracelet on his wrist. “ You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I find you quite attractive as well.” A pink flush crawled across his cheeks as he pulled the bracelet off his wrist and twisted it around his fingers.

Virgil let out a woosh of air because this man is so _cute_ and he thinks _Virgil_ is cute, and he’s _perfect, holy **shit**_. He fell back against his chair, sinking against the leather as he laughed to himself. Logan’s face went from flushed to a little nervous at Virgil’s reaction. “Is that not an appropriate thing to say? Did I misread the situation?” His voice started to pick up speed. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not the best at interpreting social situations and even worse at any attempt at _romance_ , I best be headed-“ Virgil shot up like a rocket and before Logan could even blink, he was sitting on the table in front of the other man.

He reached out his palm, looking questioningly at Logan. He hesitated before placing his hand in Virgil’s, but as soon as he did, the other man squished his hand between his own two. Logan averted his gaze, finding it to overwhelming to look Virgil in the face. “Hey, Logan.” The man in question shot a glance at the other man and was taken aback at the content look on his face. He didn’t look towards the table, but rather at Virgil’s shoulder. “I think you’re pretty cool too. I mean, very few people would’ve left their cozy beds at midnight to help someone they didn’t even know, let alone try to help them through a panic attack.”

Logan smiled weakly and Virgil flushed, dropping Logan’s hand. “Uh, sorry, that was slightly uncalled for,” Virgil mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Logan smiled a bit wider, and reached his hand out, squeezing the hand closest to him.

“Your comments are very much appreciated, Virgil, and I thank you for helping me through my moment of distress,” Logan assuaged eloquently. Virgil shook his head softly.

“You speak so fancy, man, you’re gonna hate all the memes that I use when I talk,” he chuckled. Logan finally was able to look Virgil in the eye, however shyly.

“I would bare all the memes you use in speech, as long as I got to listen to your voice.” Virgil went red and ducked his head.

“Ah, jeez, man,” he murmured. “You’re sweet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is much shorter and much worse than the first chapter, and im so sorry  
> anyway, i'm probably gonna leave this story where its at, but lemme know if you wanna see more of these boys and their backstories!  
> i rewrote the beginning, maybe five times, but i didn't have enough energy to redo the ending, so as an apology for how awful this chapter is,here's an excerpt from one of the deleted beginnings! (it is totally canon in this story btw, just never found a spot to put it in the story.
> 
> March 21, 8:43am  
> nasty snake man: Where did you go  
> idiot child: getting coffee  
> nasty snake man: Get Remus and me some  
> idiot child: no  
> nasty snake man: Bitch  
> idiot child: unoriginal, try better
> 
> kudos and comments heal my soul and motivate me to post more so please help a humble author out ;-;

**Author's Note:**

> i did my best? and i dont really know how to end chapters, you can tell, but it turned out okay  
> chapter 2 will be up in the next couple days, and this fic probably wont be longer than 3 or 4 chapters, so everything should be up pretty soon.  
> hope you enjoyed the fic!  
> title from quiet motions by mxmtoon


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